


The Baptism

by mirwrites



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables (Dallas 2014), Les Misérables (TV 2018), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:21:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26134900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirwrites/pseuds/mirwrites
Summary: Enjolras decides to address Grantaire about the drunkard's feelings towards him. It doesn't exactly go as planned
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Kudos: 61





	The Baptism

Enjolras could see Grantaire staring at him from the corner of his eye. He scowled with no particular heat, well used to Grantaire’s antics by now, as it was nearing three years since the drunkard had joined Les Amis De l’ABC. Ever since, Enjolras had grown accustomed to the snide remarks and philosophical rambles Grantaire was so prone to, especially after a bottle of wine. 

Only recently, though, had Enjolras noticed the staring. In itself, it was no problem; Enjolras was used to people staring at him. He knew that people found him attractive. He knew that many only came to hear him speak about his cause because they fancied him. But Grantaire’s eyes were never like those who were interested in nothing but his looks. No, Grantaire’s eyes betrayed every curt and crude remark, always filled with a glossy look, as if only a moment away from tears. His brow was never wrinkled when he was looking at Enjolras. His face was lack and relaxed. When the two were not arguing, Enjolras would feel Grantaire’s melancholy, wistful gaze burrowing into him.  
Enjolras knew what this meant, though it had taken him a while to accept it for what it truly was: Grantaire was in love with him.  
The thought was not one he liked to ponder. He had, of course, felt attraction or affection towards people. How could he not? He saw the beauty in mankind, and through his serious facade, there was a brightly optimistic hope for the future of humanity. It was a time that Enjolras knew he would likely never see. He was practical in his optimism. He knew change took time, but he saw each attempt as a brick in a wall. Over time, the amount of bricks would grow and a great wall would form. Each task he did, every speech he made, any lives he saved or minds he’d change, would all go towards the betterment of a corrupt society. Anything he could do to strengthen companionship between each citizen would aid in gaining numbers to rebel against corruption.  
Of all the people Enjolras had spoken to, though, Grantaire was the only one who had never changed his mind.  
The drunkard would rather be a pessimist and pull everyone down with him. He would bicker over every point Enjolras would make, refute each statement, pick apart each argument until Enjolras would finally have enough and send him off. It was not that Enjolras had any less love for Grantaire than he had for any of his other brothers or sisters; he just could not allow himself to show his love in the same way, for Grantaire would dispute it as well. A storm was constantly brewing over Grantaire’s head. A darkness was constantly covering him. Enjolras knew that, for the benefit of society, he could not allow himself, nor others, to get sucked in to Grantaire’s wallowing.  
So maybe Enjolras was a little cruel to him. Maybe Enjolras distanced himself from Grantaire to keep his goals illuminated. Maybe Enjolras feared that Grantaire’s shadows were contagious and would spread to himself-- which would, undoubtedly, be terrible for the cause.  
But Grantaire has been staring at Enjolras with a painfully lovesick face, and Enjolras was worried that, if he continued to refuse Grantaire the same love he gave everyone else, Grantaire’s shadows would swallow him. Enjolras considered Grantaire to be, at the very least, an acquaintance. So, while Enjolras loathed the gloom that Grantaire carried around with him and the sickening stench of alcohol and sweat that he wore, he did not wish anything bad upon him. 

Towards the end of the meeting, Enjolras decided to confront Grantaire. So now Enjolras sat across from Grantaire, who was still staring at him with stupor.  
“What have I done to earn this honor?” Grantaire mused. Enjolras scowled again, studying Grantaire’s face with cold eyes. He saw the dark purple shadows underneath Grantaire’s pink-tinted eyes. He had clearly not shaved for a few days-- his face and neck looked umbrous from the dark facial hair.  
“I would like to address something,” Enjolras replied carefully, not wishing for the inebriated man to anger. “It is about us.”  
“Oh? Have you finally decided to banish me?”  
“No, nothing of that sort,” Enjolras said quickly, reassuringly resting a hand on Grantaire’s forearm. Grantaire stared at their singular point of contact, his mouth slightly agape. It took him a few minutes to finally reply, and when he did, his eyes were locked onto Enjolras’.  
“Then please, go on.”  
“I know of your true feelings towards me.”  
“Oh?” Grantaire’s eyebrow shot up, and his face was flushed from more than his drink. Enjolras removed his hand from where it was rested and folded his hands together on the table.  
“I know that you have more than platonic feelings. I am unsure whether they are of love,” Enjolras moistened his lips, which drew Grantaire’s attention to them. “Or of lust. I am not as oblivious as you would think. I can see how you look at me.”  
Grantaire’s eyes looked back up at Enjolras’, and Enjolras could see his panic through his wide eyes. “What would you have me do?”  
“I would have you conceal yourself. This is more for your sake than for mine, understand.”  
Grantaire seemed to ponder the words. He spoke again, softer now. “Are you a G-d fearing man, Enjolras?”  
The latter man scowled and tilted his head. Grantaire was looking past him with a somber expression, his eyes showing his true thoughts to be elsewhere.  
“Does it matter?”  
“Of course it does. If you love and fear G-d, then you would hate me for my sin."  
"I hardly see how loving another person is a sin."  
"Well, that isn't my only action, is it?"  
"You drink. You ramble. You serve as an example of how people view the poor."  
"Hm," Grantaire made an agreeable face. "But you know that isn't all. Please tell me-- what is it a sinful man who loves another man would do?"  
Enjolras scowled at him. "You wish for me to accuse you of sodomy?" He asked, though it was not really a question.  
"Is that not what your intent was?" Grantaire leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his hands underneath his chin to support his head. His head was slightly tilted. In the light of the café, with Grantaire's pleading, sad eyes, Enjolras almost felt pity.  
"I intended only to warn you that it was obvious. I warned you for your protection."  
"Oh, so you care about me?" Grantaire extended one of his arms to gently rest upon Enjolras' hand. Grantaire looked at what he was doing as he gently traced circles with his thumb. "I'm charmed."  
"You are mocking me," Enjolras replied flatly. He pulled his hand away from Grantaire, whose eyes flashed towards him. His expression was almost unbearable and was covered by blatant hurt.  
"I would not dare. Not on matters of the heart."  
"These matters of the heart hardly concern me."  
"That's unfortunate," Grantaire's hand still rested where Enjolras' hand had been seconds prior. "I was hoping it would concern you. To know that such a pitiful creature such as I would ever dream about you. Then you would think of me, no?"  
Enjolras rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath. He leaned back in the chair he was sitting on and crossed his arms over his chest. "I cannot say I would."  
Grantaire just stared at him, the saddened look on his face amplifying. He could no longer meet Enjolras' gaze, and his eyes were glossy and distant.  
"It is not of lust," he said softly. Enjolras worked an eyebrow, silently urging the drunkard to carry on. "The feelings I have for you. I am attracted to you as Eurydice had loved Orpheus, or how Hades so fancied Persephone. Of course, I guess physical longing comes with the emotional-- but I would never so devalue you by even thinking about you sinning with a wretch like me. You probably have some maiden hidden away from us, upstate living with your parents in their estate. I bet she is as fair and as lovely and as pure--"  
"I have no one waiting for me," Enjolras replied. He paused for a moment, seemingly thoughtful, but sighed and shrugged to indicate he was finished.  
Grantaire studied Enjolras' rather unemotional face. "You, too, sin?"  
This question caught Enjolras off guard. He unfolded his arms and promptly sat up straight. "You misunderstand. I--" he groaned and ran a hand over his face. "Of course I sin. Humans are sinful, and I am no different."  
"But you are Apollo, a god among men. You are radiant and bright and beautiful. Your words are poetic and your hymns lead even the most unworthy of beings into a salvation."  
"I have not succeeded in leading you," Enjolras commented duly. Grantaire let out a startled bark of laughter.  
"Oh, but you have!" He reached across to grab Enjolras' hands. "You have led me, a blind man, to water. You have opened my eyes! I will follow you anywhere. My spirit is bound to yours, and you are the Star above Bethlehem which takes me to the manger. I worship you differently! Others bring you gold and incense and myrrh; I play my drums for you."  
"I have yet to see you do so."  
"Oh, that is true," Grantaire grinned without a trace of happiness. "Because I know my place. I simply must grovel at your feet; anyway else, I would taint you, which would lead to a destiny worse than death."  
Enjolras scoffed at him, though he was intrigued. "How would you taint me? Your presence is not that offensive." Grantaire's grin fell off of his face.  
"Even by touching your hands, I can feel your spirit darken. Wherever I go, whatever I touch, I ruin. To worship you, to know you, would be to ruin you. I cannot defile you that much."  
Enjolras bit his plump, lower lip. He squeezed Grantaire's hands gently and moved one of his hands reassuringly up to the drunkard's forearm.  
“You speak as though you carry the plague.”  
“I carry a plague of some sort, do I not?” Grantaire looked back down at where Enjolras was touching his arm. He grinned a little, and though Enjolras could not see his eyes, he knew they were likely as sad as ever. Enjolras squeezed his forearm, which caused Grantaire to look back up at him.  
“If that were so, I believe more people around you would be dead.”  
“Maybe they are not yet, but I am afraid that it is inevitable that I will mess up and kill my friends,” Grantaire’s eyes drifted over to the bottle of cheap wine that was closest to him. “Or kill you.”  
Before Enjolras could react, Grantaire pulled one of his hands away and took a swig of the wine. Enjolras grabbed the neck of the bottle before Grantaire could take another drink. The drunkard scowled, his eyes pleading silently.  
“You have already messed up once,” Enjolras started carefully. “And none of us have died.”  
“There was divine intervention,” Grantaire muttered, no longer meeting Enjolras’ gaze. Enjolras frowned.  
“I admit, I checked on you. It was on my way home. I saw that you were, well,” he held up the wine bottle he still held in his hand. “And so I only did what I thought had to be done.”  
“You were disappointed, though,” Grantaire sounded vulnerable, unsure of whether he was right.  
“I was expecting you to struggle with the task, and thus was not surprised,” Grantaire snorted, which caused Enjolras to scowl again. The brown haired man finally made eye contact again. There was a crooked grin on his face, and this time, it seemed more genuine.  
“By struggle, you mean get piss-drunk and play cards until the sun rises once more, right?” Enjolras rolled his eyes, though it was softer than his usual, fuming version, which indicated much irritation. This time, Enjolras was only suggesting the light form of a scolding in the air, which hung between them for a few moments before Grantaire spoke again.  
“I do not think you told me earlier-- please remind me if you did-- but you are not against…” Grantaire nodded in a gesture to himself. Enjolras tilted his head thoughtfully.  
“No, I am not. I believe that love makes a person stronger. And,” Enjolras paused for a moment to think about how he would phrase the next part of his sentence. “I am happy you know love.”  
Grantaire made a face somewhere between a cringe and a smile. “I cannot say that I know love. I have known sex, I have known what it is like to hopelessly yearn. Perhaps my feelings are more of an idolship. I am but a simple man, praying for a deity to help me, but my voice is masked in hundreds of others.”  
“Is that how you feel?”  
Grantaire shrugged. “How I feel is irrelevant. I have grown used to loving you from afar and being hated by you upfront. I know you have no use for these petty mortal connections; you have your Patria, your friends, whom you all love, and I am none of those things.”  
“I do not hate you,” Enjolras began, but Grantaire cut him off.  
“It does not matter, though. I know that you will never feel the way I do, and I will continue to drink and to argue just so you’ll look at me. Even the scorn and disgust is better than nothing,” Grantaire let out a sigh as he shrugged dismissively. “I wish I was different, so you could love me, if only as a friend or a brother-in-arms.”  
“Grantaire,” Enjolras glanced at the wine, which he was still holding onto tightly. He sighed and took a drink, and when the bottle was no longer obscuring his view, he saw Grantaire looking at him with wide eyes. “We are both two ends of an extreme.”  
“Indeed,” he stammered in reply, still processing Enjolras drinking alcohol.  
“Which means we may need to make a compromise in order to…” he waved his hand in a circular motion, searching for the words. “In order to love each other as friends.”  
“You would have me get involved in the cause, though, would you not?” Enjolras pressed his lips together and wetted them again before he spoke.  
“I know you do not care much for the cause, so I believe that would be cruel of me.”  
“I would do anything for you, you know,” Grantaire returned, which earned a look of surprise from the blond. “If you wanted me to get involved, I would get involved. If you wanted me to march off a clif, I would do so without any further questioning. I would die, not for the cause, but for you. I just wish I could show that to you.”  
Enjolras processed the words. His eyes narrowed and he scowled again.  
“How would you go about showing me that?”  
“I would worship you, of course. In any way that you’d allow.”  
In any way that I’d let him, Enjolras thought back to himself. What would I allow him to do? And, deciding he needed more information, he spoke again.  
“Assuming I would let you do anything, how would you worship me?”  
Grantaire’s face turned red enough that Enjolras could see it under the dim, yellow lighting. It had occurred to him that Grantaire’s feelings for him may influence what he believes would be “worship”, but Enjolras was now curious.  
“I think it would be indecent to talk about that here,” Grantaire replied, his voice shaking slightly and his eyes wide and almost panicked. Enjolras made a sound of acknowledgement.  
“Then we can go back to my apartment. I have wine and the walls are thick.”  
Grantaire’s eyes grew even wider, and a nervous smile worked its way onto his face.  
“Thick enough that your neighbors will not have to deal with you screaming at me once you eventually realize what my words meant?”  
Enjolras shook his head slightly and let out a small, breathy laugh. “I will tell you again, I am not oblivious.”  
That must have taken Grantaire by surprise as his mouth fell agape and he struggled to get words out. Finally, he collected himself enough to speak again.  
“Then, what if you are screaming for another reason?”  
“Are you planning on murdering me?”  
“No! Of course not!”  
“Then I do not plan on doing any screaming tonight,” Enjolras finished. The tips of Grantaire’s ears reddened in what was perhaps shame, but Enjolras could not tell. “Shall we go, then?” He asked, and Grantaire startled slightly. The drunk nodded enthusiastically, and, with a few good-byes, the two left the cafe. 

After a few blocks of walking, they had made it back to Enjolras’ apartment. It was a bigger building than a lot of apartment complexes-- Enjolras would not deny that he had been extremely privileged to be able to afford such a place. Once they reached Enjolras’ apartment itself, Grantaire began clamming up.  
“I’m not sure if this is a good idea-”  
“What do you mean?” Enjolras asked him as he produced a bottle of higher quality wine for the two of them to share.  
“I-- You’re--” Grantaire groaned. “You’re not thinking straight. You must be sick.”  
Enjolras raised an eyebrow at the man. He took a long drink of wine instead of replying. He could feel Grantaire’s gaze burning into his throat, watching the movement of each swallow. He could see Grantaire, from the corner of his eye, lick his lips subconsciously.  
"I am very well, actually," Enjolras replied after removing the bottle from his mouth. Grantaire's breath shook as he watched Enjolras lick any remaining wine from his lips. He subconsciously mirrored the action, before catching himself and screwing his eyes shut for a few moments before looking at Enjolras again.  
"Then you are cruel to have me here," Grantaire decided. Enjolras leaned forward and tilted his head, studying Grantaire with his blue eyes. The other man looked peaked and his lips were parted to allow for his uncontrolled breathing. Grantaire instinctively backed away, threatened by Enjolras' closeness and feeling his self control slip away.  
"If I recall, you said something about worshipping me," Enjolras changed the subject. His eyes were dark, though the emotion was foreign on the blonde's face, and Grantaire could not recognize it. Grantaire swallowed hard and nodded silently. "Show me."  
Grantaire let out a small whine at the commanding tone in Enjolras' voice. He slowly and unsteadily moved forward, his face coming close enough to hover mere inches from his neck. He let out a shaky exhale and then touched his lips to Enjolras' neck. Enjolras, in turn, gasped softly, his hands instantly entangling themselves into Grantaire's dark hair. Upon the reassurance of Enjolras' actions, Grantaire nipped the leader's neck, then gently licked the skin with his tongue. Grantaire pressed the palm of his hands against Enjolras' quickly tightening trousers. A moan escaped the blonde's parted lips before he could control himself.  
"Apologies," Enjolras panted, his fingers tightening their grip in Grantaire's hair. "It's been a while since I've been touched like this."  
Grantaire laughed breathlessly. He positioned himself so that he was straddling Enjolras. The drunkard stared Enjolras in the eyes as he grinded their hips together. Enjolras gasped, placing his hands onto Grantaire's hips. His fingers dug in almost painfully to his skin.  
"You do not love me," Grantaire said, emphasizing his point by grinding on Enjolras once again. The blond man looked startled, but far away-- too far away from most rational thought. "And yet you brought me, a sodomite," Grantaire began to unbutton Enjolras' trousers. "Back to your home with you."  
Enjolras gasped and buried his face into Grantaire's neck when the latter gripped his member through the cloth of his undergarments.  
"I was not planning on this happening," Enjolras said into Grantaire's ear before gently biting his earlobe. Grantaire made an almost painfully hard fist around Enjolras' still covered member. The blond took in a sharp gasp, his hips instinctively both trying to get more friction and get away from the pain. Grantaire released his grip and ran a finger up and down the underside, touch as light as a feather.  
"What else could you have expected?" Grantaire asked as he reached under Enjolras' underwear, and oh, Enjolras did not know how badly he needed that feeling. He could hardly speak, only partially from Grantaire's hand slowly rubbing him. No, it was shame that kept him silent now. He soundlessly buried his face in the crook of Grantaire's neck, suddenly aware of how hard they were both breathing. Enjolras' breaths felt heavy and sticky, as though there was not enough air between them to supply his lungs.  
Grantaire pulled back from Enjolras and looked at him with a frown. The drunkard looked a mess-- his brown hair was slick to his skin by sweat in some places, while flying out against gravity in others. His face was pink and sweaty. His eyes were dark, half lidded, and curious.  
"You wish to use me?" Grantaire asked. He spat into his hand.  
"I--" Enjolras' words were cut off by a gasp as Grantaire wrapped his spit-slick hand around the farmer's cock. "Hell."  
"Tell me, would you penetrate me, even if it meant eternal damnation?"  
"Please, shut up," Enjolras replied. He shoved Grantaire back, crawling up between his legs. Then he unbuttoned Grantaire's trousers, hands shaking. Grantaire simply watched with awe. He lifted his hips to aid Enjolras in taking off his pants. Then Enjolras went to the other room, returning with a tin of balm. He rubbed the slick stuff onto his fingers and rubbed one of his fingers against Grantaire's rim. Grantaire gasped, moving away from the touch. Enjolras, startled, pulled away.  
"Let me," Grantaire croaked, holding his hand out for the balm. Enjolras gave it to him. He sat back on his haunches, watching Grantaire open himself with his fingers. Eventually, when three fingers became not enough, Grantaire grabbed for Enjolras.  
"Please," he begged. Grantaire nipped at Enjolras' neck, which made the blond man growl deep in his throat. He covered his cock with the balm and lined the tip up with Grantaire's entrance.  
"Please, Enjolras, please," Grantaire nearly had tears in his eyes. Enjolras slowly pushed himself in. Grantaire whimpered as he got accustomed to the size of Enjolras' member. Eventually though, Grantaire began to whine and plead for Enjolras to move.  
The pace started tantalizingly slow. Each thrust of Enjolras' hips was slow and long, pulling nearly all the way out and then pushing all the way in. Grantaire may actually have had tears in his eyes at this point, but Enjolras was focused on himself. He began to pick up the speed. He changed the angle of their hips, aiming to find the spot he knew would make Grantaire go wild. And, when Grantaire's eyes widened, his dick pulsed, and a moan escaped his mouth, Enjolras had known he had found it. He spent a lot of focus trying to keep hitting that spot. He had to admit that watching Grantaire absolutely unravel beneath him was definitely going to be the future plot for some of his daydreams, but that was neither here nor there.  
Enjolras pace was now quick and as steady as he could make it. Grantaire had been lazily stroking himself up until this point; now, he was desperately chasing after his orgasm. Enjolras was also nearing completion. Grantaire gasped loudly and let out a stream of obscenities and moans as he came in spurts that reached his neck. Enjolras came shortly after, having been finished off by the way Grantaire had tightened around him.  
After they had came down from their orgasm high, Enjolras pulled out of Grantaire.  
"You can use the restroom to clean up. And since it is late, maybe you should stay the night." Grantaire nodded, though his mind was elsewhere. Enjolras guided Grantaire to where the restroom was before he went into his bedroom to change into his night clothes. He pulled out an extra pair for Grantaire.  
After he had been laying in bed for a few minutes, he felt the mattress beside him sag. Then there was a warmth pressed flat against his back, and arms wrapped themselves around his waist.  
"Thank you," Enjolras nearly whispered. Grantaire laughed a breathy laugh.  
"I should be thanking you. I believe now that you truly are a messiah, a god among men, for truly you have just baptized me and freed me from my sin."  
Enjolras hummed in acknowledgement before his eyes dropped closed and he fell asleep.


End file.
